The Way
by vanillavinegar
Summary: That was the Way, and that was Life, and the Way was hard, because Life was hard. An Air Nomad reflects on her life... and her daughter. Oneshot.


**Title:** The Way.  
**Author:** vanillavinegar  
**Rating:** G  
**Disclaimer:** _Avatar: The Last Airbender _and all associated characters, settings, etc., belongs to Mike DiMartino, Bryan Konietzko, and Nickelodeon. The only profit I make from this work of fiction is my own satisfaction and, possibly, the enjoyment of others.  
**Author's Notes:** First _Avatar_ fic, hoo boy. So when I wrote this, I was trying for a fairy tale-ish style. Don't know how well that turned out, but that was what I was aiming for. Hence the rather vague, repetitive language. Also, I'm not sure if all of this is canon with the Air Nomads' culture - if you know of a more definite source of info, I'd appreciate linkage.

Write a review, get a reply from the author – promise. :D

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The day before her daughter was to turn one, the nuns from the Eastern Air Temple came to take her away, as was custom. Daughters were always sent to temples opposite their mothers, sons opposite their fathers. That was the Way, and that was Life, and the Way was hard, because Life was hard. It just _was_, as it had been since their ancestors had first learned of Airbending, as it would remain for the rest of time.

Yet that did not make it any less difficult, or less sorrowful.

As was custom, she entered into Solitude for the period of one moon after her daughter had been taken away. There she reflected on her daughter's life, from pregnancy to birth to infancy, and meditated on the life her daughter would lead away from her. She had no contact with others, she did not leave her room, and she did not Bend. When she emerged, her sisters of the temple greeted her with smiles and open arms. She returned their smiles, eyes not yet content but healing, and told them that the Way was surely correct, though her sisters already knew this, of course. The Way _was_.

She still lamented the loss of her daughter, but she knew this was how things must be. And it wasn't as if she would never see her daughter again.

Once her daughter reached five years of age, as was custom she was allowed to visit the Eastern Air Temple. Her daughter was pointed out to her, and she looked on her daughter's face with something very like hunger, and very like loneliness, and very like pride. She watched her daughter Bend, moving with the grace inherent in Air, and smiled. She heard her daughter laugh, joy crinkling the corners of her eyes, and felt her heart fill. She patted her daughter's head, as she patted the heads of all the children when it was time for her to depart. But she did not introduce herself to her daughter; nor did anyone else indicate that this visitor was more than any other wandering nomad. As they flew home, she buried her face in the soft fur of her bison's arrow, remembering the silkiness of her daughter's hair, and she was satisfied. The Way, you see, was comforting, even in sadness.

And she would not be sad again for many days, not while her daughter's laughter still echoed in her ears.

Once her daughter turned fifteen or gained her own arrows – the arrows which signified mastery of the Art – whichever came first, her daughter could journey to her temple, the Western one, and (as was custom) could ask to meet her mother. She did not expect this – many children requested to meet their parents, but an equal number did not. Sometimes it was simply too strange, and uncomfortable for both parties. But _her_ daughter came, and _her _daughter asked, and when they saw and knew each other for the first time in over a dozen years, they fell into each other's arms, weeping with grief and delight. Her daughter exclaimed over the similarities in their faces, and she beamed as her daughter displayed the arrows tattooed along her arms only one month before. The Way had taken them from each other, but it had also returned them to each other, and they knew that the Way was true, just as they knew of the peace that could only be found in the liberating sky.

And, as so often happens, happiness coming in the wake of sorrow tasted all the sweeter.

So many years later, her daughter does not cry when her child, a tiny girl with her mother's eyes and her beloved's smile, is taken to the Western Temple, because she understands the rightness of the Way.

END


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